“As sure as I can be with two eyes.” She explained where she had been, where he had been, what he had been wearing.
Myra pinched her lips together. Leaned forward. Took up her pencil and began rapping its blunt end against the desk. “May I?”
Nodding, Hulda pulled up the image as crisply as she could. Although she didn’t feel Myra’s intrusion into her thoughts, she knew she was there, seeing what Hulda had seen. Myra sighed, marking her retreat.
“Mr. Fernsby is not a bad-looking fellow,” she commented.
Hulda’s face warmed. “Myra, really!”
The woman responded with an uneasy smile, blinking rapidly—a common side effect for psychometry was the dulling of other senses. All magic had countereffects, though most people had so little magic in their blood, they were rarely severe. “They do look similar, I’ll give you that,” Myra agreed. “But I don’t think it was Mr. Hogwood.”
“Truly?” Hulda knit her fingers. “Even his manner of dress—”
“You haven’t seen him for eleven years,” she pressed, gentle. “Mr. Hogwood is locked away. And even if he got out, what would he be doing in Rhode Island, of all places?”
Hulda sank into her chair. “I have told myself that very thing.” She knew Mr. Hogwood reasonably well; after all, she’d been in his employ for two years, back when she was a full-time housekeeper. One learned a lot about a person by being their housekeeper. She knew he was terribly tidy. He was kind to those close to him but didn’t like meeting new people. He’d kept entire wings of the house to himself because he savored privacy . . . and not just to hide the malevolent crimes he was committing. He was certainly a man set in his ways, and his ways were set in England. Never in all her time knowing him had he even hinted at a desire to leave home.
She offered a sympathetic nod. “Sleep on it. Seeing a fellow who favors him in appearance must have been a shock to the system. Those were . . . unfortunate times, and you were caught in the middle of them. Such memories can’t ever truly be put to rest.”
Hulda forced herself to relax. “All true, of course. I half wish you could just pluck them from my skull and let me live in blissful nescience.”
Myra chuckled. “Unfortunately, not something I can do.”
Sighing, Hulda got to her feet. “I’d best go.”
“Be sure to ask Miss Steverus for your mail.”
Hulda paused. She didn’t often get mail to BIKER, but it wasn’t unheard of. “Thank you, Myra.”
“Keep me updated, Hulda. Please.” She offered a warm expression.
Hulda returned it, grabbed her bag, and saw herself out. Before she even had a chance to ask, Miss Steverus turned about in her desk and said, “Pulled this for you!” and handed her a crisp envelope. “Looks important.”
“Indeed it does.” She turned it over in her hand. There was a return address she didn’t recognize. “Would you put in a request for a pair of communion stones?”
“Right on it; need to pull some files, anyway.” Standing, the receptionist moved down an adjoining hallway to the records room. Hulda sat on one of the available chairs. Might as well read this missive before applying herself to a fruitless hunt in the small BIKER library. Breaking the seal and pulling out the letter, she read,
Dear Miss Hulda Larkin,
My name is Elijah Clarke, and I’m the chair for the Genealogical Society for the Advancement of Magic.
Hulda rolled her eyes. Of course she was being solicited. Still, she read on.
We discovered you through your great-grandmother Charlotte “Lottie” Dankworth. As you know, she was a famous carnival diviner and astrologist along the East Coast. We were very excited to see she had descendants!
If you’re not familiar with GSAM, let me take a moment to introduce the organization.
Hulda was well aware of what the society did.
Our goal is to study the heritage of magically capable people in hopes of pairing them together to form magically beneficial unions. We believe you have a significant portion of your great-grandmother’s talents, given your pedigree, and would love to speak with you further on the matter of propagating magic for generations to come. It is a needful and blessed resource that continues to rapidly decline; we want those of the future to benefit from it as we have.
Please send your reply at the below address. I would love to speak to you about your abilities, options, and future. You will be compensated for your efforts, of course.
Sincerely and with great hope,